The quality of this photo is a reflection of the pain being suffered by the photographer

The quality of this photo reflects the mental state of the photographer


That’s the soft little exclamation many French people make at those unexpected wee moments in life.

A coin slips from your grip. you spill a little wine, you crash your car into the ditch…


That was the sound of Sabbatical Man’s perfect driving record evaporating in one teeth-suckingly embarrassing moment when our leased car nudged, teetered, then hurtled off the road, scraping, banging and crashing its way along a steep trench.

Yes, the very road referred to in an earlier blog.

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Perils of the home straight


Nerves of steel are required to drive this road every day

Whoever dares to question French courageousness needs to drive on my road.

Countless fearless Aixois commuters do it every day of the week. Twice. At speed.

The road is as wide as a catwalk model’s ankle.

Steep ditches line each side of it.

Huge trucks travel at ferocious speeds on it.

Tractors and trailers, graders and even horses and carts can be seen on it.

Yet the only one who is terrified is me – leaning pointlessly toward to the centre of the car where it feels a tiny bit safer.

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